


5 times Spock surprises the crew of the Enterprise

by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre



Series: Where no man has gone before [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5 Year Mission, 5+1, Episode: s03e23 All Our Yesterdays, Gen, Humour, Light-Hearted, Like, M/M, eventual slash, some h/c, spoilers for a few episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre/pseuds/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre
Summary: ...And the one time they surprise him
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, Montgomery "Scotty" Scott & Spock, Spock & Hikaru Sulu, Spock & Nyota Uhura
Series: Where no man has gone before [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012116
Comments: 18
Kudos: 144





	1. 5 times

**Author's Note:**

> I do love 5+1, and also I now love TOS, therefore for Nano I'm having a great time just writing Star Trek fanfiction. Hope you enjoy!

  1. Uhura



Uhura loves her new position on board the Enterprise.

It’s weird, perhaps, to feel at home on board a spaceship made of steel and silver, but it barely takes her a week to begin to love the metal floors and white walls, so different from her home on earth and yet, now familiar.

It becomes a routine, one that she relishes in settling into, and her job monitoring communications is a mixture of waiting for something to happen and fast reactions when it finally does. She’s done it before, on other ships, but never a starship before, and she’s heard the stories about her captain, so if even a few of them are true, she’s in for an eventful five year mission.

She does miss home though. The Enterprise is beautiful in its own way, but there’s no gleaming sunshine on board, nor the rich colours that permeate her childhood, and although Uhura decorates her quarters in vivid silks and decadent fabrics, the culture is not her own.

Luckily, there is no human culture that does not understand the value of a good song.

She regrets that she couldn’t bring aboard her preferred instrument, a piano, but it is simply too heavy and too unwieldy to travel with, but Uhura is not and has never been shy. She spends her evenings in the rec rooms, chatting at first with some of the female Ensigns, and then with others from their departments, and then occasionally with others from the command-division, but bridge personnel is limited and a third of the department is always monitoring the helm and so it’s rare to be able to socialise with her own department.

Luckily, she makes a firm friend in Scotty, the chief engineer, and he’s the one who brings up the topic of music first. 

“Ah, listen to her purr,” he says one day, and Uhura pauses in her reading of her PADD. 

“Sorry?” she asks him, wondering if she’s misheard, and he beams back at her cheerfully.

“The Enterprise, lassy! Just listen to that engine go!” he exclaims, and she can’t help but smile, sitting back in her chair and tilting her ear to the ceiling.

It does indeed vibrate, although it lacks the beeping she’s grown used to hearing up in the bridge, and if she listens close enough, it oscillates between a few tones. Almost like music (and Uhura guesses that maybe, for Scotty, it is).

She hums the notes, thinking they sound almost familiar, and Scotty turns to her with a nod of approval.

“Now that’s a good sound,” he says, and she laughs lightly, dark eyes playfully looking up at him.

“Want to hear some more?” she asks, and he waggles his eyebrows back at her brightly.

“Go on then,” Scotty says, and Uhura has never needed encouragement.

She hums the notes again, adding a couple as her memory serves her well and pulls out the lyrics she needs for it. A light-hearted ballad; perfect.

She sings the opening line, a little quiet but enough to make Scotty’s eyes widen, and Ensign Richards and Shah turn to face her from their conversation.

Nobody tells her to stop, and by the end of the song there’s cheering.

She flushes slightly and curtseys delicately, and for a moment, she catches a glimpse of a tall silhouette in the doorway to the room, dark against the white of the walls, and Uhura can’t help but feel joy in the knowledge that she’s captured Commander Spock’s attention with her song.

He’s gone before she can say a word, but she knows what she saw.

* * *

She catches him after the end of their next shift together (Gamma shift, a couple of days later) snagging the door to the turbolift before he can exit alone, and sliding in beside him.

He doesn’t say a word.

“Commander Spock, I couldn’t help but notice you the other day,” she says to him directly, knowing that Vulcans aren’t particularly known for their small talk.

“Indeed,” he agrees calmly, and Uhura isn’t sure whether that actually means they are talking about the same thing.

“Well, I noticed you listening to my song,” she clarifies, and Spock inclines his head slightly.

“It was not unpleasant,” he says, and Uhura beams.

“I do love to sing,” she replies, because she knows her voice is good. “Do you like music, Mr Spock?” 

“I am not in the habit of listening to it, however…” he adds, a moment of hesitation colouring his voice, and she looks up to him with mild interest, not wanting to drive him away.

“...I do play the Vulcan lute,” he discloses, and Uhura smiles in surprise and delight.

“A Vulcan lute? I love the sound of them! Oh, you really must show me some time,” she says, and finally, Commander Spock turns to look at her, scrutinising her face carefully.

“Perhaps I shall,” he replies, and Uhura can’t help but feel like she’s passed some kind of test.

“Perhaps you would come sit with me in rec room 3 tonight?” she asks. “I was thinking of making some form of music night a regular thing, and I would be honoured by your presence,”

“I believe that would be satisfactory,” he replies, and steps out of the Turbolift.

Uhura is left behind with a smile, and an eagerness that adds a bounce to her every step as she approaches the rec room later, part way through Beta shift. She’s a little earlier than usual, so really it's not a surprise to see that the room isn’t especially full, and there’s no Vulcan in sight.

She sits down anyway, striking up a conversation with two Ensigns from engineering, and twenty minutes later, Commander Spock shows up with his Vulcan Lute.

Uhura stands up, her hands pressed together in a quiet expression of glee, and hurries over to him. She holds up her hand in the polite position of the  _ ta’al _ , and meets his quiet stare and responding  _ ta’al _ with a smile.

“Mr Spock! Why, your lute is beautiful,” she compliments, smiling at him and dropping her eyes to the elegantly carved instrument in his hands. She doesn’t reach out to touch it, although it reminds her greatly of the harp that she once learnt to play, and somehow his long fingers seem gentle where they hold the wooden body of the lute.

“Come, sit with me!” she invites, gesturing towards the table that she had been sat at, and ignoring the stares of the other people in the room (just as Mr Spock was clearly ignoring them, although she wasn’t sure if he was affected by them or not).

“Thank you,” Spock replies, following her gracefully and sitting in the chair at the end of the table, next to her own, and she settles into it happily, still tracing the contours of the Vulcan lute with her eyes. It has dials that she is not used to seeing, although Uhura knows the unearthly sound of them well enough, and the strings look of good quality, but worn.

“What songs do you know?” she asks him, and Spock considers for a moment before responding to her.

“Likely very few that you know, although my proficiency lies most in classic Vulcan songs,” he discloses, and Uhura smiles at that.

“Please, play your favourite then! Perhaps I shall find a way to accompany you for the next one,” she expresses, and is met with an inscrutable expression.

“I do not have a favourite,” he says plainly, and Uhura is confused for a moment, and then smiles. 

“Of course not, Commander. Pick one you think I will find pleasing, perhaps?” she suggests instead, and settles in expectantly as his delicate fingers find purchase on the strings, a quiet hum echoing through the air as he begins.

The room, quiet to begin with, drops to almost silence as he plays, and Uhura closes her eyes to the lilt of the music, relishing in the quiet vibrations and the louder melodies that soar through it, and wonders how anyone who heard such music could ever think its player emotionless.

The song draws to an end far too quickly for her liking, and she blinks her wide eyes open to demurely smile at her commander.

“It was beautiful,” she says sincerely, and he inclines his head in thanks. Uhura glances around the room to see that it has begun to fill with people, no doubt drawn by the haunting melody of the Vulcan lute, and she suddenly knows with a quiet certainty that this is how the Enterprise and its people will truly become home.

She looks to the doorway, and sees the surprise on the faces of the crew as they enter to find that Spock is the one playing the music, but Uhura is no longer surprised. It suits him.

“Another?” she requests, and Spock acquiesces, beginning another song, and this time she finds the lyrics of another song, plucks them from the air and lays them in between the notes of the lute.

It fits, and even though it was perhaps unexpected to find a kindred soul in Commander Spock, Uhura relishes the song that they play together.

(It becomes a regular thing, and Uhura is delighted).

(He doesn’t say it, but she thinks Spock is too).

* * *

2\. Sulu 

Sulu doesn’t have many secrets. He’s an astro-physicist with a love for plants and fencing, and none of these things are secret. 

He considers himself rather easy-going as well, and has always enjoyed a busy schedule, filled with friends and places to make new friends, and so even though his new position as senior helmsman makes it harder to spend the same amount of time socialising as he used it, Sulu finds ways to get around it.

His shifts at helm can be long, with relatively little happening, so he makes friends with the other helmsmen who rotate alongside him. The time passes faster with inside jokes and meaningful looks at one another, and Sulu finds Captain Kirk to be genial and full of laughter whenever the situation allows for it. 

He doesn’t dare to rag his captain too much, but he doesn’t think it would be wrong to say that they have an easy camaraderie, alongside his casual flirtation with Uhura at comms and Brett monitoring engineering. In fact, within a month Sulu is able to say that he’s arranged drinks with everyone he works alongside, and he knows he’s happier for it.

There’s only one man he hasn’t been able to find an in with.

(Well, technically two, but it’s more that the Captain gets mobbed every time they try and have drinks together, so he’s laughingly sworn off it for a little while).

Commander Spock is unfailingly polite to him, and Sulu really does appreciate his steady presence on the bridge (especially when some of the newer ensigns panic at the first sight of an asteroid belt), but if they pass one another in the corridor, Sulu doesn’t think they’d say hello.

And he likes saying hello.

He tries out a few subtle innuendos, because that’s how he got through to his last boyfriend, who had been very cold to him at first, but Commander Spock seems to miss them all. Sulu tries jokes instead, but those go unremarked on as well. He even resorts to commentary on strange astronomical phenomena (which he does have a pretty decent knowledge of, just a lack of awareness of how to insert it into a casual conversation). He gets close, but Sulu knows really that all of the Vulcan responses are just polite.

Spock is, after all, unfailingly polite.

In fact, Spock is virtually unflappable. He doesn’t react to any of the insults people throw his way, he never looks anything less than perfectly and immaculately dressed, he never runs late to a shift or winds up late with a report.

Sulu’s pretty much given up, in all honesty. He figures that if his company was wanted, then some indication would eventually be given, and maybe then he could try again.

In the meantime though, Sulu has happily socialised for enough nights that he’s beginning to get behind on his latest botanical experiment, and so he walks into greenhouse 2 midway through Gamma Shift to continue. Sulu has a few plant samples from the landing party’s latest trip planetside, which he slightly begged to take a look at, and his plants are hidden right the way at the back of the greenhouse in order to prevent any harm coming to people. 

They do tend to bite.

He steps through the greenhouse delicately, humming lightly under his breath, and it’s with a slight shock that he spots Spock sitting at the back with one of the plants, his long fingers carefully holding down a section of petal as he inspects something with the microscope next to him.

“Oh,” Sulu says, walking up to him with a smile. “I didn’t know you were back here, Commander Spock,”

The Vulcan is quiet for a moment, adjusting something with his spare hand, then drawing back slightly to nod to Sulu.

“Mr Sulu,” he says politely, and Sulu waits a moment to see if any further conversation is forthcoming, but Spock simply returns to his inspection.

He shrugs a little, and brings out his own equipment, arranging it on a table away from his commander as not to disturb him, and moving across one of the plants he wanted to do a little further analysis on. There had been some odd cell formations in its leaves the last time he’d looked, and Sulu wanted to check them out a little further.

He begins his work quietly, eventually beginning to hum again under his breath as he works, with the occasional glance towards Commander Spock, who is extremely invested in whatever it was he was studying. Sulu has half a mind to ask, but he thinks the interruption wouldn’t be appreciated

* * *

It becomes somewhat of a routine, walking into a quiet greenhouse only to find Commander Spock working in the corner, and Sulu finds that he is rather content with it. It feels like they have more of a working relationship than they did when they just worked at the bridge together, but he also begins to feel concerned for Spock’s sleeping schedule, because he is there almost every time that Sulu is (and Sulu only turns up on every so often). 

He’s not self-sacrificial enough to say anything, of course, but the circles beneath Spock’s eyes seem to grow deeper and deeper, 

He walks in as usual, smiling across at Mr Spock in case he decides to look up to see who it is, and sets up at his station, this time with cuttings and some pollen from a new plant. The pollen is carefully contained (they’ve learnt from their mistakes, honestly) and so Sulu doesn’t expect anything strange to happen, even as he carefully puts some onto his slide to investigate. It’s easy to lose himself in determining its structures and seeing what of the chemicals it reacts with, and suddenly a heavy  _ thud _ breaks his concentration.

He jerks up in alarm, his steady hands almost dropping the pipette he’s holding, and looks over to see that the source of the noise is Spock.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate.

The noise was apparently Spock’s head or arm sliding onto the table, because the Vulcan is asleep at his desk, head resting a little haphazardly on his arm, and face unusually peaceful. Sulu spends a moment being terrified that he’s fainted or something, but he looks like he’s perfectly calm, simply overtired and-

Sulu wishes for a split-second that he could take a photo, then spends about a minute banishing the thought from his mind before it can be discovered and his body eviscerated by a Vulcan glare. 

He timidly looks over at Spock, and properly evaluates the situation, weighing up the pros and cons in his mind before carefully moving away some of the breakable equipment from where his superior officer’s head lies, and putting his own things away.

He can wait another day or two to work out the strange pollen.

Instead, Sulu tiptoes out of the greenhouse and closes the door tight behind him, adding a sign to the door that indicates there’s a mild biohazard inside, and cleaning has been scheduled.

He thinks it’s the least he can do.

(And he also thinks that maybe it’s not his imagination that Spock is a little friendlier the next time they pass one another.)

(Maybe)

* * *

3\. Scotty

Scotty is a man of simple pleasures; give him an engine, proper booze and a woman and he’s set.

In that order.

He loves engines more than anything, and although he’s served on many many ships before the Enterprise, and loved them all, it's the Enterprise that becomes his child. When he joins the Enterprise as her chief engineer, he can’t wait to start poking around this ship that is his to tend.

When he joins the Enterprise, she is charming and beautiful and in need of one or two repairs. Within a month, he is happy to report that she is the best starship of them all.

(Well, in upgrades and maintenance at least. He doesn’t have the parts for all the upgrades he wants to do, but it’s a work in progress, and one that he thinks he would happily dedicate the rest of his life to).

Captain James ‘Call me Jim’ Kirk is a delight to work with too, and they become fast friends, although both are a little too dedicated to their jobs to spend all that much time off duty together. He’s pleased though, because Jim Kirk is a man that he will happily follow and obey, and he’s learnt over the years that that can be a rarity.

His second-in command, First Officer Spock is a harder nut to crack. 

When Commander Spock walks in to engineering for the first time, Scotty is....apprehensive. He’s worked with aliens before, sure, but Vulcans? He has no clue how they tick, and that makes him nervous.

Still, Commander Spock hasn’t done anything to warrant disrespect.

“Commander Spock, have ya come to take a gander at the ol’ girl, ey?” He beams, climbing down the ladder and walking over to the man, reaching out for a handshake before spotting the wide streaks of grease coating his palm and hurriedly snatching it away.

Commander Spock follows the movement with his eyes, and Scotty’s smile turns sheepish. 

“Don’t mind me sir, just givin’ her workings a wee bit of lovin’” he says brightly, glancing up at the open panel where he was working. “Can I help ya with something?”

Commander Spock stares back at him quietly, and Scotty waits patiently, because clearly the man must be here for something. 

“I wanted to have a more detailed report on the state of the Enterprise. Would now be convenient?” the Vulcan asks, and Scotty doesn’t bother hesitating.

“Aye, now suits just fine! I must warn ya though, I’ve been told I can get a little over-enthusiastic,” he leans in a little as though imparting a secret, and Spock seems nonplussed (although who can really tell?)

“I will inform you if I have any problems,” he replies, and Scotty smiles and shrugs his shoulders a little then.

“Well then! Where do you want to start?” 

“Wherever you feel would be most logical, Mr Scott,” Commander Spock intones.

Scotty is more than happy to comply.

In fact, he catches a glimpse of a chronometer what seems like moments later, and is shocked to learn that his tour has lasted over an hour. He looks up at the First Officer as they stand rather closely together, a result of both a cramped area and tiny details that Scotty’s been highlighting.

“I don’t mean to take ya away from other work,” he laughs a little. “I da ken the time!” 

“There is no issue. It was mentioned to me that your report may take a little time, so I ensured I would have no conflicting duties,” Spock replies measuredly, and Scotty allows a beam to spread back across his face.

“Aye sir!” he smiles, and continues.

Scotty finally manages to finish his tour an hour or so later, and realises that he’s had a very interesting time.

He had, of course, given a report to the captain too, but the man had a busy schedule and more of a passing interest in a lot of the mechanics. Spock seems to know a lot more about the engines, and they’d spent a while discussing finer details, to the point where Scotty has managed to create himself work for the next month at least.

“Mr Spock,” he says, standing back in the main section as they conclude. “I didnae know you loved engines that much. Most officers I know wouldnae be caught dead in some o’ these tubes!”

Commander Spock allows an eyebrow to raise, which Scotty is learning to be a common reaction. 

“I do not ‘love’ engines, as you put it. They are inanimate and thus it would be illogical to feel an emotional reaction to them,” and Scotty is preparing for an impassioned defence when the Vulcan continues-

“And it seems to me that perhaps some of those officers are right to avoid the tubing. After all, many would not fit,” 

Scotty can’t help the bark of laughter that erupts out at Spock’s comment, even though the man in question remains completely stoic in front of him.

“Well I never,” he chuckles, clasping the commander on the shoulder. “Seems you have a sense of humour hidden there!”

“I do not believe I am at fault if you find my facts to be humorous,” Spock says blankly, and Scotty laughs harder, because that is dry wit, hidden behind 2 hours worth of Vulcan logic and raised eyebrows.

“It’s been my pleasure sir,” he grins, and can’t help but add on a “Maybe I’ll crack out the booze next time!”

“Thank you for your time, Lieutenant-Commander. I do not believe that will be necessary, however,” Spock says courteously, and Scotty can’t suppress his smile.

Spock departs elegantly, and Scotty, still chuckling lightly, turns back to find that patch-job he’d been fixing. A sense of humour indeed…

He wonders what a drunk Vulcan looks like.

He wonders if he can find out.

* * *

4\. Bones

McCoy has never been one for star travel. Neither does he hide the fact that many of the key concepts of star travel are horrific to him; even the greenest Ensign is aware that he will do anything to avoid the transporter beam.

The only aspect he doesn’t regularly tell people is that he will always, always go in the transporter if there is any risk to his friends.

When he first joins the Enterprise, those who he considers ‘friends’ is a very elite group that consists of Jim and-.

That’s it.

The first person he meets on the Enterprise is Jim as well, but the second person is Spock, and although he is wary of the Vulcan officer at first, by the time they are entering the third of their five years, he counts him as one of his closest friends. They’ve been on some bizarre adventures together, all of which McCoy professes to hate (and there’s a little too much almost-death for that to be entirely a lie), they argue constantly, and yet somehow- they are friends.

And it didn’t take him long to work out that Spock’s nonsense about a lack of emotions was just that; nonsense. Really, that should have made some of the revelations of the Sarpeidon mission a little less shocking, but McCoy has never quite worked out that Spock can be and is hurt by his insults until-

Well, until he says as much.

Sure, there’s emotional compromise going on, but that’s never made it any less true, and McCoy can’t shake the horror that creeps over him at the thought of that. Oh, and Spock’s love for Zarabeth. That too.

They are quiet as they beam back up to the ship, and Bones is sure that Jim notices, but equally sure that he doesn’t want to explain anything to him. 

In fact, he’s perfectly happy to forget it all for the night, or perhaps forever, right up until the middle of the night when he is still awake, and he knows why.

McCoy sighs, and throws off his covers. For all that the chronometer shows that it’s the middle of Gamma shift and he has until Beta shift to report for work, he can’t sleep. It’s becoming an annoyingly frequent occurrence, one he likes to attribute to the chaos of their work and the trauma it induces in them all, but McCoy is a doctor and suspects it is also a sign of his age.

After all, he isn’t getting any younger.

He stands up in the dark and presses the lights on, cursing at them as they wreck the level of night-vision he had attained, and struggling into a set of clothing. He knows what’s on his mind.

It’s Spock.

For all the emotionless bastard had said about Zarabeth being dead and gone, McCoy didn’t believe a word. He’s been in love before. He knows that logic makes no difference to it (and he’s also pretty damn convinced that Spock was just trying to get him off his back).

It’s with all this in mind that he pads over to Spock’s quarters.

“Spock?” he asks, glaring a little blearily at the door in front of him, and rolling his eyes when it doesn’t open.

“Spock, you open this door right now or I swear I’ll make you invent a whole new word for ‘pain’ in your language,” he threatens the door, hammering on it a couple of times to drive the point home.

Still no response.

McCoy purses his lips, shaking his head free of the cobwebs, and raises his hand to bang again on the door, when suddenly the next door opens instead.

“Bones?” Jim asks, sounding as weary as McCoy feels, and he turns to face the man with a raised eyebrow.

“Hi Jim,” he says a little sheepishly, the feeling compounding as he looks at the captain’s state of undress. He’s clearly been sleeping, and McCoy wonders if perhaps he should have just cornered Spock in the morning.

“What  _ are _ you doing?” Jim asks, and McCoy freezes. It is a valid question, and also one he has no intention of answering. This one’s between him and Spock.

“Nothing to bother a patient who’s meant to be on medical leave,” he says instead, and Jim gives him the look, the one that he likes to let loose on the natives when they do something stupid like attack.

“Bones, you’re the only one-”

“Right, go to sleep Jim, doctor’s orders,” he says authoritatively, and gets eyed for a moment before his friend gives up for now and allows him to get away with it.

“Sure, Bones,” he agrees, both of them fully aware that McCoy has an agenda here, and luckily Jim is both tired and trusting enough to allow him just to get on with it.

He smiles at McCoy and closes the door, leaving the doctor standing alone in the hallway for a brief moment. His head is beginning to clear a little more, and the next logical place to check is either the labs or the bridge, so McCoy heads into the turbolift, requesting his next location.

He exits the turbolift onto the bridge, and immediately sees Spock, sitting in the captain’s chair, his back to McCoy but his dark hair and pointy ears unmistakeable.

“Spock,” McCoy says in satisfaction.

Spock doesn’t jump, but he does the thing where he hesitates for a moment to cover any emotion that might slip, so the doctor is reasonably sure that his presence was unexpected. 

He smirks. Good. He does enjoy eliciting strange human emotions from Spock.

“Doctor McCoy. Are you feeling well? I believe you are meant to be experiencing a sleep cycle,” Spock says, still facing the view screen and away from the door, and McCoy takes a step forward, more than willing to play the game.

“Is that concern for my wellbeing that I hear, Spock?” he asks teasingly, knowing that it’s just an avoidance tactic, but also knowing that Spock hates being accused of such, especially in front of others. The gamma shift on the bridge are valiantly ignoring them, but there’s no point in pretending they aren’t listening to every word they exchange.

“A ship’s doctor ought to be in optimal conditions, Doctor McCoy. I do not wish you to be compromised moreso than you already are,”

McCoy splutters for a moment. “Why, you green-blooded-”

He cuts himself off in the middle of the exchange, because that’s what he’s here for after all. Spock is just very good at manipulating him (for all that the Vulcan insists he doesn’t have emotions).

“Spock.” he says instead, and successfully throws off their usual rhythm. “I need you to come to sick bay,”

“Unnecessary,” Spock replies, as expected, and McCoy grips onto the edge of his fraying temper with all his might. 

“I will wake up Jim and make him order you,” he says instead, and it comes out almost calmly. In a different situation, he would be pleased with himself.

“The captain is asleep. I am sure that your...issue...can wait until morning,” Spock insists.

McCoy stomps forward aggressively, coming around the side of the chair and leaning into Spock’s personal space, ready to loudly whisper things that Spock does not want the crew hearing, and that’s when he catches his first glimpse of Spock’s face.

He has dark circles under his eyes. His eyes are slightly bloodshot. He has a scratch, swelling up green, across one of his cheeks.

He looks ill.

“Right, you are coming with me,” McCoy says immediately, knowing his shock is reflected on his face, and not taking no for an answer.

It was never his plan to do so, but he does not even want Spock attempting to explain his way out of this one.

“Commander Spock is temporarily relieved of duty,” he says louder to the whole bridge. There’s a moment of quiet shock, but they do all know their duties, and so they shuffle positions accordingly, an ensign waiting a little awkwardly for Spock to leave his chair so she can take his position.

Spock throws a cold look to the doctor and stands up, gracefully walking into the turbolift and waiting for him there. McCoy thinks for a moment that he’s going to leave before he can enter the lift too, but Spock is never one for pettiness, especially not the public kind.

They ride down to sickbay together, not a word said between them, even though McCoy is still roiling with anger and maybe a touch of concern, and there’s a definite stiffness in Spock’s frame that speaks to his exhaustion and tension.

In fact they don’t speak until McCoy has finished his brief physical examination; the one that’s mostly for show, and he has to be the one to break it.

“Spock.” McCoy says, and wonders if he expects a response. They both know why they are here after all, and that’s the sole reason for the awkward tension filling the room.

“May I leave?” Spock inquires blankly, one eyebrow raised, and McCoy glares at him.

“You know full well you can’t leave. Not until we talk about-” he cuts himself off, then looks Spock right in the eyes and finishes his sentence. “Zarabeth.”

There’s the slightest of flinches as he says her name, mostly just a small flutter of Spock’s eyelids, and McCoy softens despite himself.

“Look, I know you despise emotions and all this illogical human nonsense, but you can’t tell me I’m wrong. You were in love with her, and now she’s gone.” 

“As I said doctor, she is-”

“Dead and buried, I know, and I also know that that means  _ nothing _ where love is concerned,” he rolls his eyes, and sits down in the chair behind his desk, pulling out some of the definitely-legal brandy from a still that is definitely not Scotty’s, and pouring them both a drink.

“Drink,” he says simply, and Spock eyes it like it might bite.

“You know I do not partake of alcohol,” he replies, and McCoy looks at him.

“You might want to, Spock. This conversation is only beginning,” he warns, and yet is surprised when Spock sits down and reaches for the glass.

He takes a big sip, and the only indication of its bitterness is the slight downward curl of his lips as he swallows, and McCoy is a little amused despite the situation.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” he remarks, and Spock is silent. “Guess that Vulcan biology of yours is good for something,”

Spock continues to be silent. McCoy curses himself silently, because he hadn’t meant to say that, not with them both still reeling, but it seems like as good a time to bring it up as any.

“Spock. Actually...you said earlier-”

“You must discount any words said whilst I was in an illogical state,” Spock cuts him off, and McCoy sets down his glass and sits up. That’s as good as confirmation.

“So it’s true, what you said. That you ‘never liked’ me saying things like- well, like that?” he checks, feeling a little queasy at the implications, and Spock’s lips tighten.

McCoy takes another swig, and lets his hand fall to the table, the free hand coming up to allow him to rest his head in it.

“All this time-” he says numbly, and Spock says nothing.

“Spock, all this time- I thought we were just arguing for the sake of it and- you take it like-” McCoy stumbles out, because all this time Spock hasn’t been emotionless, nor has he been an equal in their arguments. No, all this time he’s been hurting a friend, one of the best ones he’s ever had.

“Doctor- Leonard.” Spock says quietly, and McCoy snaps his attention up. It’s rare Spock actually calls him by name. “I am aware that you do not truly mean your comments on my heritage. However, you are not the only one who makes such remarks,”

McCoy nods a little, hand coming up to rest on the bruises that have been left on his neck, and feels-

Well, not relieved. But perhaps comforted.

“Spock I-”

“Do not apologise, doctor. It is I who must apologise for my actions earlier. I regret that they caused you harm,” Spock says, and McCoy scowls.

“I’m trying to make up for-”

“As long as the intent behind your words remains non-hostile, I have little issue,” Spock says emotionlessly, and McCoy silently vows to change his behaviour anyway, because they can argue without him bringing up bad memories for Spock.

“If that is all then Doctor, I will leave,” Spock stands, and McCoy realises that they haven’t even touched on Zarabeth. However, something about his friend’s posture is vulnerable, and he thinks for the first time that maybe there is no pressing need to discuss it right at the precise moment.

“Spock, I want you to know that if you do want to talk about Zarabeth, I will listen,” he says instead, and feels warmth as Spock nods silently and exits the room without another word.

He takes another sip of his brandy, finishing off his glass and then reaching over for Spock’s and finishing it off as well. 

McCoy thinks he might sleep tonight after all.

* * *

5\. Jim

Jim is an explorer, an idealist, and extremely, overwhelmingly lucky.

The day he learns that he is to be captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise he cannot quite believe it, and spends the first half of his time in a daze, thinking there must be a mistake, and the second half drunk off of happiness (okay and the booze that some of his friends press continuously into his hands).

He tries his best not to pinch himself to check he’s not dreaming in the days leading up to his transfer, and can’t quite suppress the urge as he stands on the transporter to beam up to  _ his ship _ .

_ His _ .

It’s a miracle, honestly it is, and Jim’s never been happier. He beams onboard to meet his new crew (and find where Gary is hiding), and is greeted courteously by his new First Officer, Commander Spock of Vulcan.

Jim was told of him, of course, and there were plenty of stories circulating about the man (?) anyway, but there is one detail that the stories leave out.

He is gorgeous.

Jim is a professional and doesn’t let himself blush or react similarly, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to. Spock is tall, a fair bit taller than him, and made up of sharp angles and flat planes, long limbs and elegant fingers, and for all that his pointed ears and uptilted eyebrows show he is not human, Jim is in no way put off by them.

He is, however, cold.

Jim tries his best in those first few days (and of course all the ones that come after) to integrate himself with the crew whilst learning how best to give them orders, and Spock is a steadying presence throughout the process, nearly always on the bridge with him, and yet never quite reaching out to become more than people who exist nearby one another.

Captain Kirk is an idealist though, and he persists in overtunes of friendship, pursuing more than a courteous nod of greeting or deep-voiced farewell after a shift, and eventually he wins himself raised eyebrows and a word more than necessary.

He wins a slight curl of the lips and monotone rebuttals.

He wins a softening of the eyes and private use of his first name.

By the end of their first year, Jim has two best friends in Bones and Spock, even if the two of them bicker like children over literally everything.

By the end of the second year, he has a best friend, and a man who understands his every intention before he speaks them. By the end of the third, he has a crush.

When he first notices, he freezes up right there on the bridge and Spock has to address him twice to get a response. He tries to shrug off the realisation and push away the split second of Spock’s hand brushing against his, but it leaves him off-kilter for the rest of the shift and he  _ knows _ his First Officer notices, but he is a considerate soul who allows Jim to run away at the first available opportunity and stumble into Bones’ office with a groan of despair.

“Bones, I’m an idiot,” he declares, head on the desk, and Bones chuckles from further in the room.

“Now Jim, you know I’d never disagree with you, but why are you an idiot today?” the doctor asks, his usual harsh but kind manner fully intact, and Jim moans.

“I think- I have a crush on Spock,” he confesses to the table, and there’s a moment of silence in response. Jim risks opening an eye and peeking out at the world.

Bones has frozen in place for a second, but as he watches, an expression of long-suffering falls over his face and he raises a hand to massage at his forehead.

“Ah jeez, kid. I’m gonna need to open that bottle of Romulan ale I don’t have,” Bones sighs, and moves to the cupboard to pull out two glasses and a definitely-legal bottle of something that Jim knows nothing about, even though it’s half empty.

“Bones, tell me I’m stupid and young and it’ll never work out,” he says pitifully, raising his head to slump backwards in his chair dramatically.

“You’re stupid and young,” Bones replies promptly, and Jim waits for a moment, eyes narrowing on his friend’s face, and the man sighs again. 

“Jim, are you really telling me that  _ today _ you realised that you  _ might _ have a thing for a certain pointy-eared Vulcan?” Bones asks, and there’s some strange emphasis in his sentence that Jim doesn’t really want to examine.

“...yes?” he replies, because it is the right answer.

“Goddamnit,” Bones mutters, and swigs back the glass of ale he’s poured himself, sitting heavily in the chair opposite Jim. 

“Bones?” Jim says, eyebrows furrowed in resigned misery. 

“I’m too old for this,” Bones declares to himself, then sits up and stares hard at Jim. “Okay, I am only going to say this once,”

“Okay?” Jim responds, a little nervous at the intensity the conversation has taken on.

“Jim. You are my captain and also an idiot, and you have been in love with Spock for at least two years.” Bones says, and Jim blinks.

He can’t find the words to respond.

“Okay, let me put it this way. You make eyes at each other on the bridge. You touch him the  _ whole time _ . You play chess together most evenings after spending an entire day together. There is a pool on whether you guys are dating, secretly married or on the verge of draggining each other into supply closets to fuck. You-”

“Bones!” Jim protests, his cheeks burning a brilliant red, and Bones consents to be cut off. “No I don’t!” 

“Give me strength,” Bones mutters, leaning back and closing his eyes, letting Jim sputter. “Please tell me you knew that you were in love with him,”

“I’m not!” Jim yelps, and is fixed with an exasperated glare. 

“...do you think I have a chance?” he asks tentatively, and his friend throws his hands up in the air.

“Do you have a chance? Jim, Spock’s been in love with you for at least as long as you’ve been in love with him!” he declares, and Jim feels his head spin.

“Don’t tease me,” he says dourly, and Bones subsides a little, reaching across the table to grab Jim’s wrist.

“Jim, do you think you would be able to touch him if he didn’t allow it? Do you think Spock looks like that at everybody here? Do you think he willingly spends so much time with any other illogical human?” Bones asks, and Jim can’t quite find an answer.

He wants to believe it, wants to believe it with every fibre of his being but-

It’s Spock. He’s almost impossible to read when he wants to be.

Still, Jim can’t help the tendril of hope that curls into his heart and whispers  _ maybe _ , and lingers there long after Bones throws him out sickbay and leaves him to stagger back to his quarters alone, breathing into his ear for weeks and months afterwards.

He’s never been so aware of himself in fact, and the strange self-consciousness that tries to take over makes him think that Bones could be right in his assessment of love. He jerks away in surprise every time Spock brushes past, and can’t find the words to reply when Spock smiles at him, and finds it a struggle to resist temptation whenever they are alone in his quarters.

And eventually, Spock stops doing these things quite as much.

Jim doesn’t realise to begin with, but it comes to a head when Bones walks onto the bridge, takes a look at them, and grabs Jim and drags him off into the turbolift. 

“I’m on shift!” Jim objects, and Bones rolls his eyes.

“They can handle it. What  _ I _ can’t handle is Spock looking sadly at your back as you ignore him! Pull yourself together,” he snaps, and Jim feels a surge of anger in response.

“I can’t help it! I-”

“You better get over yourself Jim, because at some point Spock really is going to try and move on. Other people notice him too, you know. If you keep ignoring him, Spock might notice them back,” Bones warns, and Jim slumps slightly, biting his lip.

“Think about that,” Bones finishes off, patting him on the shoulder and sauntering out the turbolift like nothing happened. There’s an ensign waiting to come up, but she stops outside the lift and smiles at him nervously, and the lift doors close again.

Jim closes his eyes and drags up every ounce of courage in him, and strides back out onto the bridge, heading straight for Spock.

“Chess tonight?” he murmurs, stepping in close and allowing his hand to trail onto Spock’s shoulder.

Spock doesn’t stiffen in response, and he looks completely calm as he nods assent, and Jim hopes he isn’t making a terrible mistake. 

* * *

Oh-eight-hundred rolls around, and Jim is sat in his quarters, table laid out with a mixture of Vulcan and humans foods, chess game present but off to one side. He’s dressed up nicely too, in his own clothing for a change, and is a strange mixture of calm and terrified.

Either way, Bones is getting a visit tomorrow. Jim isn’t sure yet if he’s going to kiss or punch him.

The door buzzer sounds, and Jim’s attention is quickly refocused, and he calls out “Come in,”

Spock walks through the door, wearing his normal uniform. Of course, Jim supposes, he had no reason to assume that Jim would be wearing anything else.

“Captain?” Spock says with slight confusion, and Jim smiles winningly. 

“I thought you might be hungry, Spock,” he says lightly, motioning to the chair opposite. “How do you like Pok-Tar?”

“It is a fare I have not eaten for a while,” Spock says, and sits. He looks up at Jim, who does his best not to look away. “Is there a celebration I have missed?”

“No, Spock, not at all. I just felt like having a meal together,” Jim says calmly, and loads his own plate with some of the spaghetti, making sure Spock is taking food too as he tucks in. 

The meal goes as smoothly as he had hoped, since they are well accomplished at finding things to talk about, and as they finish it off, Jim pauses.

“Spock,” he says, a little out of the blue, and Spock pauses too, putting his plate off to the side slightly as he looks across the table, brown eyes warm as ever.

“Spock I-” Jim begins, but for all his preparation, he can’t think of a single thing to say.

Damnit. The evening had been going so well too.

“Screw this,” Jim mutters out loud and stands up, striding around the table and leaning down to kiss Spock quickly, the angle making it a little awkward, but very clearly demonstrating his intentions.

He steps away just as fast, hands clenched by his sides, and attempts an awkward smile.

“I think I’m in love with you?” he says, allowing his eyes to flutter closed for a long moment as he hears Spock stand up from the table. He expects to be pushed away, or perhaps to be left alone in the room, but instead Spock steps closer to him.

“Jim,” he says, and Jim opens his eyes to see that Spock is much closer than he had been anticipating. He swallows a little, his throat dry.

Spock watches him and smiles slightly. Jim doesn’t really know how to take that, but then Spock leans down and presses his lips to Jim’s, just as softly as Jim had kissed him, and the man opens his eyes to see Spock smiling a little wider.

“I did not think my regards a secret,” Spock notes, and Jim raises an eyebrow, relief and joy warring to make him bold.

“Your regards, Mr Spock?” he teases lightly, and Spock nods solemnly.

“Indeed, captain,” he says, and Jim smirks at the use of his title, wrapping his arms slowly around Spock’s waist, pulling him closer..

“Fancy some desert?” he asks Spock, and receives an elegantly raised eyebrow. The impact is a little different from mere inches away.

“Perhaps later,” Spock decides, and pulls Jim away from the table and across towards the bed.

Jim thinks he can live with that.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  1. And the one time he is surprised



“And remember, Bones, you can’t insult this one. She might have you fired,” Jim warns the doctor, and Spock watches with slight amusement as the man rolls his eyes.

“I’m not dumb, Jim,” McCoy says, and Jim grins.

“I think I’m mostly warning myself,” he suggests, and Spock allows himself to feel a small surge of illogical humour.

“Doctor McCoy, I believe you are incorrect. I note 24 occasions in which you have insulted dignitaries, and I believe more than 10 of them were on purpose,” Spock notes, and Jim bursts out with laughter, grabbing on to Spock’s arm as he doubles over, and McCoy sputters and looks generally extremely aggravated.

It is his natural state. Spock does not find concern in it.

“You and your- calculations- why do you even- they deserved it!” he cycles through a series of almost sentences, settling on one that Spock does not think provides great reason.

“Spock, you kill me sometimes,” Jim finally gasps out, and Spock raises an eyebrow.

“That is not in my duties as First Officer,” he replies, because he takes a certain joy out of misunderstanding human idioms. 

Jim falls apart all over again, and Spock feels satisfied.

“You see if I ever hang out with you again,” McCoy mutters under his breath, taking a step away from the pair, but there is a smile on his lips and Spock is fairly sure he isn’t really offended.

A pity.

The comms beep at them in notice that the shuttle has landed, and Spock looks at Jim in silent communication to tell him to straighten up and stop laughing. Jim follows suit, although he hasn’t fully managed to wipe the smile from his eyes by the time the diplomat is approaching them.

“A pleasure to meet you, Diplomat Krithioplan,” the captain says, his smile respectful even though the shadow of his hysterical laughter is still barely contained in his eyes. 

The diplomat smiles back at him, her own smile more practiced than anything else, and Spock notes that she has features that human males may consider beautiful, despite the slightly unusual lack of sclera in her eyes. He presumes she has non-human heritage.

“The pleasure is returned,” she says, her voice smooth with the delivery, and Jim inclines his head slightly, with McCoy and Spock following suit.

Jim motions to Spock, and then McCoy in turn.

“This is my First Officer Spock, and our Chief Medical Officer McCoy,” he introduces, and the diplomat turns to each of them. She looks once at Spock and raises a slender eyebrow.

“Your First Officer is not human,” she states, and Spock nods.

“This is correct. I am Vulcan,” he says, used to inquiries about his position on the ship. 

Krithioplan studies him intently, then moves her gaze on to McCoy. The look she gives him is noticeably warmer, but Spock is not offended. This too, he is used to.

He steps back slightly, and allows the captain to begin his usual warm conduct, offering a tour of the ship with a smile that Spock once would have believed to be an indication of sexual interest. Now, he is aware that flirtation is just a part of Jim’s nature, and nothing is likely to come of it.

Regardless, he chooses not to follow. He does not think that his presence will be desired.

* * *

Spock does not frequently find himself at a loss for activities, but it has become an increasingly common occurrence over the 6 days that Krithioplan has spent on the ship.

His usual routine involves 1 shift on the bridge (with a second shift every other day), another shift in the labs following his bridge shift, and meals before and after each shift. In the evenings, he and Jim will play chess at least every third day, and once or twice a week he will enter a recreational room with Uhura and sometimes some of the other friendlier crewmates (he and Sulu discuss astrophysical papers, and Scotty likes to chime in with a mixture of intelligent facts and complete imagination).

However, his time on the bridge has been forcibly limited by Doctor McCoy, who seems to think he appears ‘tired’ and ‘requires rest’, and the primary lab is undergoing repairs after a small incident with chemicals. He has not explained to McCoy that he merely requires additional meditation time, because Spock does not wish to be drawn into a conversation about the reasons for his current lack of meditation abilities.

The truth of the matter is that the diplomat’s extreme dislike of him combined with her high telepathic powers results in a near-constant need to shield, beyond what is required of him with continuous exposure to humans.

It is nothing that he should not be capable of dealing with. Therefore, it is nothing that should interrupt their mission. 

Closer contact with Diplomat Krithioplan has empirically shown Spock that distance is the best thing to muffle her impact on his mind. However, it is a tall order on board a starship.

Spock sighs and comes to a stop, just outside of the door to rec room 3. Inside, he can hear the noise of his human crewmates, rowdy as usual, but he often enjoys this room as Uhura frequents it too, and most of the crew quiet whenever she sings.

He hasn’t brought his lyre with him today though. The last time he had done so, Krithoioplan had been in the room, and Spock knew that part of his duty was to ensure her comfort (and he played music for the meditative and social aspects of it, neither of which would be a benefit in the diplomat’s presence). Therefore, he had chosen to leave it back in his room today.

He listens closely. He can hear Uhura’s familiar tones, but also Krithioplan’s, and he cannot hear any of the other crew that he might otherwise choose to sit with.

He leaves. He will attempt further meditation.

* * *

It would be incorrect of Spock to say that he does not feel a modicum of relief when the Enterprise finally begins to near Dinus II, where Diplomat Krithioplan is headed. Spock knows little of the specifics of her mission, but he is aware that she will begin treaty negotiations with one of the more advanced species of the planet, and so his only duty remains to ensure she arrives there safely.

Then he will meditate, fix his wearying shields, and demonstrate to the Doctor that he is capable of his usual rota of shifts on the bridge.

Spock is monitoring the scanner, as always, and so it is he who first notices that something is wrong.

“Captain,” Spock says.

Jim nods at him.

“The reports we have been given are not entirely truthful. The planet is showing signs of radiation emission beyond what is indicated as natural, and beyond what their capabilities suggest,” Spock reports, and Jim frowns.

“Do you think they could pose a danger to us?” he asks.

“Unsure,” Spock replies. “However, I do believe it is a risk. Additionally, it would be illogical to allow Diplomat Krithioplan to transport down until the discrepancy has been resolved,” he advises, and Jim considers his words.

“What?” Krithioplan asks, stepping forwards from the back of the bridge.

Dutifully, Spock repeats his report.

“That’s nonsense,” she insists. “You must be reading your scanners wrong. It is imperative that I begin negotiations immediately,”

“Diplomat, with all due respect, I cannot clear you until Mr Spock can explain these strange happenings,” Jim steps in, and Krithioplan’s expression twists a little.

“I thought Vulcans were supposed to favour peace,” she bites out, and Spock does not reply. 

She walks over to him angrily, and behind her Jim stands up instinctively, but he is not anticipating any threat and so he cannot stop her from grabbing Spock’s wrist tightly. 

“Don’t ignore me!” she hisses at him.

Spock stills at the touch, throwing up his mental shields quickly, superficially warded against her but not prepared for the heightened levels of psi-ability her non-human heritage affords her. It has been hard to maintain his shields from afar, and physical contact leaves her emotions to practically rip through his outer shields, beginning to collapse his controls.

“Let go of me,” he says stiffly, controlling his temper with all his might, and attempting to peacefully resolve the situation.

She doesn’t move for a moment, and Spock is about to force her off himself when she is abruptly ripped away from him and thrown unceremoniously back towards the back of the bridge.

“I do not take kindly to people assaulting my officers,” the captain says through gritted teeth, and Spock is gratified by Jim’s defense of him, although he was indeed capable of defending himself.

“I do not take kindly to being thrown around,” she growls out, standing up and staring defiantly at Jim, whose back is still turned defensively towards Spock.

“Captain,” Spock murmurs, and Jim glances over. “It is of no consequence.”

Jim gives him an incredulous look, and turns back to the diplomat.

“I think you’ll find, Mr Spock, that it is most definitely of consequence. Leave my bridge,” he says, and Spock is a little surprised by the fierce defense. He’s even more surprised when Uhura stands up from her chair to face down the diplomat who stands near her.

“I believe the captain gave you an order, Miss Diplomat,” Uhura says politely, her sweet tone belied by the vicious bite under her words. 

“You do not have this authority!” Krithioplan says proudly, her head held high. “I will report you to the Federation,”

“Then I will report you for assault,” Jim retorts immediately, and Scotty stands from the other side of the bridge. 

“Aye, I’ll be right there with ya laddy,” he says firmly, and even Sulu has taken his hand away from the controls to face the confrontation, his face set into a fierce scowl.

Spock remains seated and looks around the bridge. They defend him against a fellow human, even when by their human customs, she has not done anything particularly offensive. It is Spock’s own failure for his incapability to adequately shield.

Krithioplan looks around the room, her long dark hair swinging behind her as she stands down and walks into the turbolift.

“I expect to be beamed down immediately,” she says, and nobody bothers to respond. The lift doors close, and Jim immediately turns around to Spock.

“Is everything alright, Spock?” he asks, and Spock raises an eyebrow, his shields somewhat thrown about, but there is nothing that a quick meditation will not fix.

“Indeed, captain,” he replies, and Jim relaxes into a small smile.

“Good,” he says quietly, and Spock frowns a little.

“Why did you respond in such a way?” he asks Jim, and really also the bridge at last. The other helmsman is doing his best to ignore the scene going on behind him, but everyone else is focused on Spock.

“She assaulted you,” Jim says as though something should be obvious, and Spock cocks his head to one side.

“Not by your standards,” he replies, and something looks like it’s dawning in Jim’s face.

“But by Vulcan standards, she did,” the captain says, and Spock concedes the point.

“You are aware of Vulcan laws and biology?” Spock blinks, and this time it’s Uhura who responds.

“Doctor McCoy informed us of the basics when he became Chief Medical Officer, and I believe a few of us took the liberty of researching a little on our own,” she says with a smile, and Spock looks her way with confusion.

“Why did you find such a course of action necessary?” he asks. 

Scotty walks over with a gruff smile. “Well, I didnae want to offend you, of course! I mean, not on accident,” he chuckles, and Jim laughs too.

“Anyway, I heard how she’s been treating you these past few days,” he adds, a little more seriously. “Why didn’t you report her?”

Spock takes a moment to think over the question for a moment, because whilst her mental abilities have been causing him not insignificant stress, there is no reason for the humans to have any knowledge of it. He scans through his memories of actual interaction with her, and finds that perhaps outsiders would also view some of her interactions with him as aggressive or demeaning.

Spock looks around the room, and for once does not think of the scientific anomalies that he is meant to be discovering the cause of.

“If I reported such behaviour, I would not have the time for my duties. I am capable of dealing with issues,” he says, and observes the response of apparent anger.

“I want you to report it, Spock,” Jim says lowly, stepping forwards and placing his hand on Spock’s shoulder. Spock wonders at the behaviour, now that he knows it is not an action done out of ignorance. 

“As you wish, captain,” he bows his head slightly, and Jim steps back with a slight cough, clearly recalling the presence of everyone else. 

“Right, I guess we’d better continue our mission,” he says, turning back towards his seat, and Spock waits a second before he moves to do the same.

He is still a little less in control than he would like, but it will not significantly affect him. Moreso, he is...surprised by the defensive action that others have taken on his behalf. If he were to have predicted such a situation, he would not have accurately predicted their reaction, but Spock finds that it is not an issue.

He allows a small smile to creep onto his face as he stares around the bridge, and thinks truly that he is staring at the faces of friends.


End file.
